


Surprise

by portraitoftheartist



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Baking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food, M/M, Pastries, Surprises, midnight baking, they love each other so much you guys, this is short but idc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portraitoftheartist/pseuds/portraitoftheartist
Summary: Aziraphale wakes up suddenly, finding the space next to him in bed empty.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> It's 'halfanniversary' of my realtionship with the loml today. It's kind of ironic (to us) that our anniversary and half anniversary are on the Longest Night and Longest Day. A little something I said last night sounded cute to me and I guess I wanted to write it for Crowley and Azi.
> 
> so there you go Crowley being a romantic sappy idiot in love (just like me ahahha)

Aziraphale finds himself awake at a vague sound reaching his ears one early morning. Hands roaming the space next to you out of instinct, he finds the place usually filled by his companion to be suspiciously empty and cold.

Blinking his eyes a few times to adjust the room’s darkness and listening in for any other sound or voice, he slowly gets up. Taking slow discreet steps one by one, he leaves the bedroom and heads towards the living room.

A weak light, probably from the kitchen catches his eye. Aziraphale looks over the room for any unusual activity or signs of a break in. Not a single thing seems to be out of place.

Picking up a thick telephone directory before changing his direction to the kitchen, he listens closely once again.

The sounds that woke him up seem to have gotten louder and sounds to be coming from the kitchen. Still worried about Crowley’s whereabouts and safety, he puts as little weight into his steps as possible, not making a single creak under his feet.

An irresistible scent joins the sounds with each step, capturing his attention and lulling him into a fake sense of safety. He fears a powerful spell addressing to his sense of smell. He shakes his dead, trying to break out of the trance and reaches the kitchen entrance.

The book raised over, ready to attack at any given chance, he enters the kitchen. Only to drop it.

A tall figure leaning over the counter. Leaning over _his_ kitchen counter, wearing _his_ flower patterned apron that he was gifted a long time ago and cherished dearly.

The figure seems to be unaware of the ruckus Aziraphale has made. He can see the arms moving, back slouched in a rather tired manner. He fears Crowley to be possessed, from the lack of response to the noise and his absence in his bed, his worries only increase.

He finds the courage to speak at last.

“Crowley, dear, what is going on here?” Crowley responds at his voice.

Hands throw into the air, body suddenly jolt awake, straightened; Aziraphale can see how tense he is. He almost acts like a little kid caught red handed.

“Ah! Angel! I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was, until I woke up to a sound of unknown origin.” Crowley mumbles something under his breath at that.

“Crowley. What exactly is going on here?” Crowley diverts his gaze, scratching the back of his neck, now leaning against the counter.

“Ah, well… You see… I- I wanted to surprise you.”

Making eye contact with Aziraphale one again, a shy smile appears on his face. He seems to be searching for some words. Aziraphale waits.

So Crowley steps aside to show him what has been hidden by his figure this whole time.

A couple of crepes, heart shaped (more like attempted), surrounded by various berries and fruits, some whipped cream…

“I’ve been up all night trying to make these bloody things. Took me a while to get the right texture and couple more tries to shape them as I wished.” He walks to Aziraphale as he talks, reaching over his hands and holding them.

“Happy anniversary Angel.” A faint giggle leaves Aziraphale’s lips.

“And what anniversary is this?”

“I don’t know. The first time we met? Our encounter in Rome? Times spent at St James Park? All those lovely dates at the Ritz…" He holds Aziraphale's face with both hands now.

"Every day I spend by your side feels brand new and fresh. Each day holds a new adventure, a new feeling… I have been wanting to tell you how you make me feel but I can’t seem to find the words. And saying ‘I love you’s over and over doesn’t feel enough. It’s like-“

“Like there is so much to say to one another but no need, because deep down we already know it all in our hearts.” Aziraphale cuts in. Crowley just grins sheepishly at that, hands falling to both sides, losing no time to find Aziraphale's once again.

“Read my mind.” He rests his forehead against Aziraphale’s, still holding his hands between them, breathes mingling with one another. Standing like this for what feels like forever yet at the same time, so short; Crowley pulls back suddenly.

“Oh and, that noise you woke up to! That must be the door. I had asked Anathema to order your favorite pastries from the bakeries you like a lot.”

“Crowley. It is not even 6am, how could they have come? You did not have to do all that for me.”

“Special order. Best of the best, for the best in my life.” Another small smile, a silent ‘busted’ written all over his features.

“And it’s not just for you but us. We are a team, remember? Partners in crime, inseparable, one at heart and soul.” Crowley adds as he pulls Aziraphale to him.

Then he reaches over for something on the table, behind Azi. A black, average looking box. “Go on now, open it.”

No special wrapping, no cards, bows or a brand. It’s plain, not to heavy nor big. Aziraphale slowly opens it.

Inside are chocolates, all shaped like books. Each has a different title and author, all familiar covers and names.

 _The prophecy books the Nazis asked for in 1941_.

The exact same books he had with them when Crowley showed up unexpectedly and saved his life, as well as the books. The same books from the moment Aziraphale registered his _long-self ignored_ feelings. The books from when he realized he was in love with none other than the fallen angel Crowley.

His eye sight getting blurry from the tears, he feels a sudden pull and finds his face rested against something soft and warm.

Burying himself into Crowley’s chest further, he wraps his arms around.


End file.
